It's all nice and cute to work at the UN… not
by StarsOfYaoi
Summary: *Various pairings, CRACK* One poor human working for the UN is asked to find a certain Finnish diplomat. On his search, he finds out more than he’d ever wanted to know about many of those ‘strange foreign diplomats’.


**SOY:** I hope you enjoy!

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**Rating**: R–ish.

**Warnings:** some gay sex :D

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

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**It's all nice and cute to work at the UN… not**

**One–Shot**

Pushing the door open, the secretary of the vice–president in charge for the UN list of monthly meetings hesitantly looked around, eyes checking the room for a person he knew should be there, but wasn't.

Fidgeting, as he knew that the sooner he brought the documents back to his boss the better it would be for him, he moved to the nearest person in the room, a tall, young–looking man who was sitting in a corner, an iPod in his big hands.

As he noticed him coming closer, he took away both earphones, staring straight at him with such a scary expression that the poor secretary –whose name was Lucas, even though it wouldn't be important enough not to need mention– froze in midstep.

"I'm… s–sorry, do you think you can point me to Mr…" he fumbled, scanning the paper he was holding in a hurry "Mr. Vä… Väinä…" he couldn't really read that name, but it surely was not English… besides, the glare had intensified. Lucas started sweating. "Mr. Tino V…"

The man sitting grunted and straightened up, moving to stand and look around.

Lucas flinched and took a step backwards; he truly was scary. This was… this was the UN building. It wouldn't do to start diplomatic fights, so that man couldn't possibly be about to hit him, right…?

"M' w'fe's prb'bly w'th S'land… I mean, P'ter ou's'de" he stated, glancing out of the window at his left.

Blinking in surprise, Lucas clenched at the paper and nodded in thanks, after a few moments trying to understand just what that man had said.

Clearly he wasn't used to speaking English, because that tone had been rough, the words had been mumbled out, and surely he had not meant to say wife at all –if that was what he had uttered. Lucas wasn't entirely sure.

"Uh… thank you, Mr…"

"C'll me Berwald" was the gruff reply.

As Lucas backed away from him, Mr. Berwald (the name was familiar, but he wasn't sure about what exactly the man did at the UN building) put his earphones back in, and although muffled, Lucas had the definite impression that he was listening to… caramelldansen?

Shaking his head, he turned out and ran as fast as he could.

Getting to the front door took nothing more than a few moments, and as Lucas got there, he took a moment to shuffle his clothes to be more presentable; if he managed well and impressed his boss, he would surely get a raise.

Standing in front of the entrance, Lucas scanned the surroundings, but couldn't find anyone that looked like the description of this Tino he had received from his superior; there were a few kids playing in a corner, and he stared at them for a moment, surprised.

Usually, no kids were allowed at the building, unless relatives of the bosses coming to the meetings, but the ones playing were dressed strangely; one had some sort of… sailor suit, complete with hat, whilst the other had a red, expensive–looking suit, and instead of playing, he looked like he was under attack.

Unsure whether to go back inside or just wait some more, Lucas stepped towards the kids, still glancing around… then he finally recognised the sailor kid.

The eyebrows gave it away, of course –he didn't know the whole story, but there were only two people who ever had the same giant, bushy eyebrows… one was Mr. Kirkland, who worked for the British section of the UN, and one was that kid, and they were clearly relatives. Mr. Kirkland was quite known around for his strange attitude, and he was truly young… probably at least seven years younger than Lucas himself was.

Unfortunately, Lucas reminded to himself, he wasn't searching Mr. Kirkland.

"Hey! You!"

He jumped, startled, when the young Kirkland kid bounced towards him, followed at a way more sedate pace by the other kid.

"You, do you recognise this great me?"

As the kid spoke, Lucas couldn't but stare in amazement at those eyebrows. Seeing them this close, they were truly big…

"I asked you if you recognise me!" now he was pouting, but Lucas had no time to play around with kids.

"I'm sorry, boy, I'm searching for Mr. Tino Va… V…" oh, damn it –he gave up! "I'm searching for a person and I don't have time to play with you".

The kid threw a glance at his paper and read the name he couldn't pronounce; his face scrunched up in surprise.

"Mama? Why would you search for mama?" the kid turned to share a look with the other boy, who shrugged and looked to the side. "He's not here, he promised me he'd bake me something good and went to the kitchen!"

Lucas frowned. As far as he knew, the kitchens were out of limits to the dignitaries coming for the meetings…

'_Still –mama?'_

"Let's go, Raivis" the Kirkland kid poked his friend with a finger, making him break into shivers, and completely ignoring Lucas he moved away, bouncing happily. The other kid, Raivis, fearfully nodded at him and followed his friend away.

"Peter, there's a meeting soon… I should be going back…"

Lucas stared at them for a second more, then he turned around and rushed back inside. The receptionist stared at him quizzically when he asked where the kitchen was, but complied and gave him the information.

…………………………

"Third floor… second corridor, left door…" muttering under his breath, Lucas moved to the elevator and pressed the up button.

In front of him there was a couple of young people talking, and despite himself, the secretary couldn't but gawk at them in shock. Both of them were clearly male, yet one of them was wearing a skirt.

A skirt. And a short one, at that. and stockings.

Not to mention the bunny–shaped bag.

"And I was telling him, like, to stop being such a total _ass_ and just give me that damn nail polish! Can you believe the _nerve_ of him!"

'… _valley speech?'_

Ok, what was a transvestite doing at the UN meeting? Not that Lucas had anything against those… well, people who found themselves living in the wrong body. Not at all. But really, he didn't know there was one there… what was he–

"Feliks…" the other young man clearly looked exasperated, "I don't really see the point of you telling me that–"

"But I like, totally feel justified! I kicked him in the shins then, like, absolutely hard, and he was jumping and squealing like a pig–"

"Feliks…"

"Oh, Toris, come on~" the blond male dressed like a woman shook his hair, rolling his eyes. The other young man, brown hair, had the look of someone who truly needs a hard surface to slam his head on. "Why are you, like, so impatient? Do you want to, like, have sex then?"

The one named Toris was sipping his cup of coffee whilst his friend spoke, so the logical follow up was that he spat the whole content of his mouth on the elevator's doors, coughing whilst Feliks patted his back, grinning.

"F… f–" he spluttered.

Lucas agreed privately, knowing that had he been drinking, he would have definitely mimicked the brunette.

Thankfully, he'd been taught to maintain his cool exterior when faced with different customs –that was just… something like it. Definitely. He was not sweating in shock, nor was he pale. It was just an impression.

"Oh, come on, like you wouldn't want to do it in an elevator~ Feliciano told me he did it last week with Ludwig! I don't want them to do it more than _we_ do! Toris! I am sure no one would mind" and much to Lucas' shock, he actually turned towards him, smirking. "You! Guy! You don't mind if me and Toris here have a quickie in the elevator, right?"

Frozen once again, and wondering if this was just his bad day, Lucas slowly… _terribly_ slowly… backed away from the two, cheeks flushed an uncomfortable shade of red.

"I… I think… I'll be… I'll take the stairs" he coughed out, retreating from them as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, not fast enough not to hear the last comment from the blond transvestite.

"Come on! I, like, bet we can finish before it reaches the twentieth floor!"

…………………………

"Third floor… what corridor was it again?" Lucas mumbled, looking around.

The UN headquarter wasn't entirely a maze, but it was big, and composed by four buildings, one of which (the one he was in currently) had 39 floors; Lucas had prided himself to know most of his way around, but of course, after his mind had been plagued by the knowledge that the elevator was being used right now as a kink setting for a gay couple…

He wasn't sure if they idea just plainly shocked him, or if he was kind of intrigued by their daring attitude.

Surely he wasn't disgusted, when he'd been younger he'd fooled around as well, but still… it was _public_ property… soiling elevators… oh, God…

More mental pictures attacked him, and he shook his head wildly, hoping for them to be gone.

Panting lightly for the rapid climbing of the stairs, Lucas moved to the first corridor, and opened the first door on his right, hoping someone would be inside so that he could ask–

"**_брат~_**" a female voice, clearly not speaking english,"_Давай поженимся Давай поженимся Давай поженимся_**_–_**_"_

Pushing his head inside, Lucas glanced around for the person who had been speaking –and did the manliest thing he could. He squealed. Loudly.

A young woman –what was that about UN and young people working there? Lucas had thought himself rather young when he'd applied for the job, but all those workers… they clearly looked in their early twenties!– was scratching at the door on the other end of the room.

Yes, scratching. With her nails.

She had a beautiful cascade of light hair with a dark blue ribbon, and was dressed with one of those strange clothes you'd see in old movies, blue with a fluffy skirt and a white apron on the front –and she was _scratching_ at the door.

"Go away _сестра_! Go away!" from the other end of the door, a definitely male voice that sounded scared reached Lucas' ears. He couldn't quite pinpoint to whom the voice belonged to, but it was eerily familiar… still…

"**_брат_**, this door stands between us…" how could a beautiful girl like this utter words with such a menacing, dark tone? "Shall I get rid of it?"

Lucas stepped backwards –were those nail lines on the wood of the door? The hell–

He bumped against a nearby table, causing some documents that were on it to fall messily on the ground.

"You…" the young woman had turned around, and much to Lucas' fright, she was staring _right_ at him. "Are _you_ standing between me and my one love?!"

"No! No! I'm not!" he yelled, his heart clutched tightly by a firm fear. "D–don't kill me!"

He didn't know why he was so scared, but he had the definite impression that this vaguely insane woman would easily _kill_ him if he turned around and–

"Oh, good" with a smile that could have been sweet, had she not been holding what looked like a giant, pointy knife –_'a knife?! The hell?! What are the security guys at the entrance doing?!'_– the woman returned to the door, stabbing at it.

Stabbing the door with a knife.

Not a fake, plastic knife. A real one. Metal. Deeply embedded in the wooden door. Deeply. That woman had such strength?!

She plucked it out as if it was nothing, and grinned. "Brother…"

Lucas ran.

"I'm still too young to deal with this!"

…………………………

Scared, flustered and unhappy, Lucas found himself finally getting to the kitchen. He'd asked that nice guy with glasses, who was dressed as if still living in the early years of 1950, and the man had enough time to reply (using carefully chosen words that felt like they were coming directly out of a book) before said man had been whiskered away by an albino, who cackled in a strange way and almost dropped a cute bird that was nested on his head.

Lucas had recognised the first as Mr. Edelstein, the diplomat working for Austria (he was sure it was somewhere around Europe, because the other one with kangaroos had a longer name), but the second was still an incognita.

Still, was it allowed for people to bring pets in the UN building? What were the guards at the entrance doing? with all the attacks and the fear for the politicians and diplomats' lives, it was a wonder the entrances were so poorly guarded that they allowed a clearly insane woman with a knife and a deranged man with a bird to go around.

Still, this wasn't Lucas' problem. He still had to find this Mr. Tino V… whatever.

He could file his complaints (and suggest he might be in need of therapy just to forget the gay sex, which strangely had started looking not bad anymore, after that woman, the batshit insane woman and such) later, after his work was done.

Pushing the door of the kitchen open, he realised someone else was already in there.

It was the German representative, he realised as he got a better look at him, with a white and red apron tied around his midsection, and he was holding a bowl in one hand, whilst with the other he was patting the back of a shorter brunette, one Lucas knew pretty well.

The German diplomat (what was the thing about workers so young they couldn't look older than twenty again?) was called Ludwig something… Lucas wasn't sure he'd ever heard a surname for him, whilst the other was an Italian, named Feliciano something.

He had an older brother and both were diplomats, but Lucas had never seen them working. They were mostly known and feared in the UN buildings because they ran around naked, much to the shame of their bosses, slept in the corridors (in the nude) and clogged up the kitchens, demanding pasta.

Mr. Ludwig moved to the side to get a pack of pasta from a bag, and the Italian smiled sweetly, making Lucas' insides twitch. He had never thought such a cute expression could belong to a person, let alone a male!

He was about to interrupt them, they were clearly cooking, but stopped when the shorter one, Feliciano, leaned forwards towards the stove, and promptly reacted with a yell.

"Ve~ Ludwi~g! It hu~rts!"

The German turned around quickly, and scooping the whining Italian away from the stoves, he grabbed his arm, checking for the burn.

Mr. Feliciano, eyes tearing up, pointed to somewhere on his wrist, clearly upset, and the German turned around to push the hurt appendage under cold water.

"Feliciano! I told you to pay more attention when you cook!"

"Ve~ I was… b–but I am so happy Ludwig is cooking with me that I wasn't looking at the sauce… it has been a while since you were able to spend time with me at all, and I've really missed you!"

Lucas felt a smile tug at his lips; he'd heard that the two had a good friendship going on, and it was cute that two people from two nations could get along so well…

"F–Feliciano… I…" flushing as dark as he was, even Mr. Ludwig kind of looked cute…

"Ve, Ludwig, hug! Hug!" Feliciano shifted forwards, and the German held him close, still flushed but tightening his hold on him. "Kiss, too! Kiss! Kiss!"

The German diplomat pressed a gentle kiss on the Italian's cheek, then, presented with the hurt wrist, he also kissed it, gently and almost reverently.

Lucas, from his position on the door, couldn't but think those two made a definitely cute couple; there was something about them that just moved him deeply…

"Kiss, Ludwig" Feliciano cuddled once more on the blond's chest, and Lucas could have sworn he'd seen something roll under the table.

Something pink, and heart–shaped.

Was it a cup or something?

Gently, Ludwig started kissing a small trail from the pained wrist up to the Italian's arm, and under the poor secretary's eyes, he moved his kisses up to his cheeks, and then to his lips. Feliciano giggled, fingers dancing on the wider arms of the German, then snuggled even closer, the sauce cooking momentarily forgotten.

"_Ti amo tanto_, Ludwig~"

More strange heart–shaped things rolled down, and much to Lucas' chagrin, he couldn't understand where they were coming from. "I–_Ich liebe dich_, Feliciano".

'_Aw, damn it, they're so cute together. There should be something about them on newspapers, I'm sure it would make people rethink their hatred for gays…'_

Lucas was startled out of his strange thoughts and turned to the side, grimacing. What was that again? Was everybody in the UN having gay diplomats?!

Was he turning into one himself?

Cheeks tinged with a healthy shade of both pink and green, Lucas shuddered.

He had to get out of there –clearly there was no Mr. Tino anywhere… he had to move on.

"Ve~ Ludwig? Do you want to…" a finger pressed against the German's chest "make love here?"

"F–Feliciano!" cheeks flushed, shuddering at the mental thoughts, Mr. Ludwig quickly lost his mental battle on whether it was right or wrong when the Italian wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

"Come on… you know, I could let you tie me up on the table…"

Lucas closed the door and ran away, before he could be tempted into just staying for a bit more to watch. He really didn't want to be turning into a pervert, either!

'_What __**were**__ those rolling heart–things anyway?'_

…………………………

"I'm sorry, but would you happen to have seen the Finnish diplomat? His name is Mr. Tino V… well, yes" Lucas pointed at the paper he was holding, so the other could read it.

There was a long silence. "Tino is with Berwald" was the quiet reply, after what felt an eternity.

The person he had before his eyes was the Norwegian representative, and his spaced out stare unnerved Lucas quite a bit.

"Uh, no" he stated. "Mr. Berwald pointed me at the outside, but he was not there. I was pointed towards the kitchen, but… he… well, Mr. Tino was not there either" he flushed, still remembering his close encounter with the Italian and the German envoys, and looked away.

He still had a small, denied desire to go back and…

Mr. Helge turned to the side, looking at nothing, and softly spoke in his own language.

Lucas felt a shudder run through his back.

Was he just… talking to himself now?

Were all the world diplomats just… strange? He wouldn't be taking out a knife like that crazed woman from before, would he?

"Hmm" the Norwegian returned his vacant look at him. "You could try searching on the thirtieth floor…"

Wait, was that a floating tuft of hair… detached from the Norwegian's head?

Lucas blinked, clearing his throat. "W… why should I?"

Those vacant eyes turned towards him, and Lucas decided he didn't really want to know that. Besides, a tip was a tip, albeit strange, and the Norwegian apparently knew who Tino was, so…

With a nod at him, Lucas moved down the corridor, disappearing around the corner. Norway hummed to himself, the giant troll that always accompanied him chuckling under his breath.

In front of the elevator doors, Lucas fidgeted, not sure what to expect. Of course there were three different elevators, but he didn't remember if he'd seen which one the two from before (the transvestite and his friend) had chosen, thus his sudden bout of hesitation.

The doors opened and he was about to peer inside when a blur rushed at his side, pushing him away.

He clumsily fell, his ass colliding painfully with the ground, and looking up he could only see part of the person's head and a curl of hair handing strangely (was that a _face_ in that curl?!) before the elevator's doors closed.

"Im Yong Soo! Ayaaaa! Stop!"

Just as the doors closed, a person spun from around the corner and came to a halt in front of the door, black hair tied in a ponytail, and holding on his back a small bamboo basket with… food inside?

Lucas blinked in surprise when dark eyes turned towards him. "Ah –Mr. Yao! It is a pleasure seeing you here…"

The Chinese representative, Mr. Yao Wang, was one of the funniest people Lucas had ever met whilst working in the UN building –he had this strange speech pattern that often ended with a 'aru', much like the Italian's 've' sound, was usually bright, and often offered up food.

He always dressed in an apparently national red dress, and was often seen with a plushie of a panda –or at least, people hoped it was a plushie.

Yao, lost his angered features, turned towards him and smiled, offering him a hand. Once he was standing, Lucas found a bun ready for him, and he denied it with a small gesture. "Mr. Yao, who were you… chasing?"

A fleeting expression of annoyance appeared on the young man's face. Just this once, Lucas didn't think anything of it, if only because he was aware that Asiatic people had the gift of never really looking old, despite their age, so probably Mr. Yao was past his thirties, whilst still looking a twenty years old man.

"My… I mean, Im Yong Soo, the delegate from Korea" he mumbled, sighing. "He was groping my…" he turned flustered, waving his arms around "nothing, nothing aru! It wasn't worth chasing him, aru!"

Lucas had just a bad feeling about that.

Were really _all_ those delegates gay?

How come no one knew? At least the valley–girl speaking transvestite and the Italian guy were quite blatantly so…

"Heh, we're all pretty busy around, aru" Yao smiled, fidgeting with his basket. "I have some documents I need my… Im Yong to sign, but he just… he's so irritating, aru! What are you doing here? Do you want to chat a bit?"

"Uh, well, Mr. Yao, I can't really stay much, I have to search for Mr. Tino" he excused himself, patting his clothes. "Ah, the elevator is returning…"

Nodding at him, he prepared to enter the elevator, blissfully forgetful about his previous qualms, but as the doors opened, the same flash from before knocked him away again, and the Korean diplomat launched himself out of the elevator, tackling the poor Yao and sending both of them rolling on the floor.

"_Hyung_ Yao! Why weren't you chasing me, daze?! Don't I mean anything to you? T–then I shall write a drama where the stupid Chinese hurts Korea's feelings daze!"

Lucas fought the urge to chuckle, amused by the strange Korean guy that dressed with ample, vaguely girlish clothes, and entered in the elevator, just as Korea groped China from behind, throwing the basket to the side–

"Your breasts belong to me then, _Hyung_ Yao!"

And it was only when the doors slid close that Lucas realised that there was a strange, kind of familiar, smell in the elevator. Scent of sweat and se–

"… oh, no –no… not in this one!"

…………………………

It was a long elevator trip, from floor three to floor thirty, and once the doors slid open, Lucas stumbled out, gasping and flushed.

Unable to stop from just picturing those _two_ doing–

"Gaaaah! Stop it! Stop!"

The day was turning out to be… quite… well, eventful. He wasn't sure he liked it. Or the thoughts that stumbled in his mind.

"I swear" he spoke loudly, moving down the corridor. "If I find out Mr. Tino without meeting anyone else of those strange diplomats, I swear I'll… I'll… I'll stop drinking that much coffee!"

Which was one of his bad habits.

That he truly didn't want to let go, but really, if just another one of those people popped around before he could find the Finnish representative he…

Why were all of them so young, anyway?

He was starting to feel old.

"I–I'm sorry?"

Lucas jumped, staring around as if he'd been attacked, and in truth, his nerves were actually shaken enough that he could have been –he was still plagued by that woman and her knife.

Then, he realised that someone was at his side.

He was shocked someone could get so close to him without him noticing, but there again, he had been quite a bit into his self–deprecation to notice his surroundings…

'_I'm really a goner –if this continues, I won't want to step into the UN buildings anymore…'_

Or worse, he would end up stalking the cute couple from the kitchen, Ludwig and Feliciano. He was quite sure that in a gay couple someone had to bottom, and he was pretty sure it would _not_ be the German…

"Uh…"

Oh, right, there was someone next to him. he had almost forgotten –really, he was so shaken he couldn't keep in mind that someone was talking to him?

Not to mention where his thoughts were going!

Wait, was that a _bear_ this guy was hold–

"Mr. Alfred?" Lucas' eyes widened in surprise. He had not expected to see the USA representative this early in the morning –usually Mr. Jones arrived later, around midday, munching on his burgers, yelling and bouncing around, making the life of all workers in the four buildings a living hell. "What are you doing here at this…"

"Ah… I'm not Alfred… I'm Matthew, his brother" indeed, even though this guy had the same voice as Alfred, and the same face, his hair had a different style, and there was a strange curl (… many foreign diplomats had this thing with strange curls, or was it just his impression? Things were stranger and stranger the more the day progressed…) that his brother didn't have.

Wait, but wasn't Mr. Matthew the diplomat from Canada?

He'd always wondered if the two just had different fathers, since the surnames were different…

"Ah, I'm sorry, Mr. Williams!" properly chastised, Lucas sighed. "I didn't mean to mix you with your brother…"

Matthew flushed, waving one of his hands, and shook his head "no, no! It's not a problem, it happens every day!" even if he was trying to yell, and his demeanour was that of a loud person, his voice still didn't raise a bit.

It was disconcerting –Lucas frowned, thinking that it was a good thing if he didn't stand too close with all the diplomats. It looked like there was none that was… normal anywhere in the world. Not even the USA's own was normal, after all…

'_Why… and how… did they get those positions? Do I really want to get a raise?'_

"Anyway, did you need something?" he steered himself back in the conversation, knowing that it would be impolite if he lost himself again whilst conversing with the Canadian.

"Well, I was passing by and I heard you were searching for… Mr. Väinämöinen" Matthew fidgeted, and the bear he had been holding (the same bear Lucas had fought hard to ignore) let out a soft mumble that sounded like…

Lucas kept his eyes on the Canadian's face.

No. The bear had not spoken.

Absolutely no word had been uttered by an animal, and the word had not been 'who?', no matter how much the bear looked like a toy.

It was breathing. It was moving. And it was _not_ talking.

"Y–yes" his voice wavered and he tried to collect himself.

Therapy. Yes, that started to sound nice.

"Well then, I've seen him" Matthew smiled, glad to be of help. "He was going with D… Mr. Mathias to the twentieth floor for a cup of coffee".

"Why not to the kitchen?" he asked, frowning. And who the hell was Mr. Mathias again? "There's also a café on the first floor…"

"The coffee dispenser on the twentieth floor has been magi– has had something done to it. The coffee there is delicious" he nodded, the air of someone who had tasted the coffee enough times to know what he was saying, and Lucas felt his shoulders slump in defeat. He'd come to that floor without a reason, and now he had to go back…

"Thank you, Matthew" he stated, grateful for the man's kindness. "Might I ask who Mr. Mathias is?"

"Oh, oh, yes" the Canadian shrugged "that is the Danish employee. He's… loud, you might have seen him already somewhere…" his face brightened up "Mathias is the one who brought over an Ax last month and almost chopped down the tables at the reception in building B!"

Lucas felt the sudden need to slam his head against the wall, but refrained.

Oh, yes, indeed –he knew the Danish then. Damn it, that was an employee then?! He'd thought he was just some crazy person…

"I'll be taking the stairs then. Thank you, Mr. Matthew. It was a pleasure seeing you".

As he walked away, he refused to believe the bear had uttered that question again. He also refused to listen as the Canadian, with a pathetic sigh, answered him. "It's Canada, Kumajirou…"

…………………………

"Ah… hnn… d–damn you, Antonio–ooh…"

"Come on, Lovi, you know you like it…"

"Hey, watch the amazing me win!"

"Y–you uneduca–aah–ated idiot… why d–did you involve me…"

"Oh, stop you two, me and _mon cher_ Arthur will definitely… come first place… _non_?"

"S–shut up you French frog!"

Lucas couldn't move.

Rooted to the spot, he could only _stare_, eyes as wide as saucer plates, at the sight in front of him.

They were all –they were all foreign diplomats. All the six… seven of them. Lucas' barely working brain recognised who some of them were, and was left even more scarred than before, especially considering what they were doing.

There was the infamous French representative (the one who had clearly some problems in decency, since he was often seen gliding through the buildings with no clothes on bare a small red rose on his privates) on top of Mr. Arthur, who was on all fours on the floor, and he was –they were having… they were…

"Come on, _Angleterre_… you know you're enjoying this…" he punctuated his speech with loud, rhythmic slaps, hands dripping lower, where Lucas thankfully couldn't see– "You're a pervert, after all…"

A long, drawled moan was his only reply, as the British's cheeks flushed crimson.

There was the Austrian delegate he'd met before, spread on a wide cloth, together with the albino guy, who was pounding him in the ass at a fast pace, one leg hoisted up to his shoulders, the other kept spread apart, unashamedly.

"No way I'm letting you win, France!" the albino yelled, the smirk on his face eligible for illegality in at least three states. "I am not going to lose!"

"Ha ha ha~ you two are so funny…" the third one was the nice man Lucas had spoken with every now and then (the Spanish diplomat, a lovely, bright person… Lucas quite liked his cheerful attitude, always ready to laugh and joke around…), and he, too, was in the middle of some wild, gay sex together with…

'_Wait, is that Mr. Feliciano?!'_ shocked out of his mind, Lucas felt a pang of regret, not liking the idea of cheating at all… then blinked. No, this was the older Vargas brother… Mr. Lovino?

"S–stupid… s–Spanish… basta–aaah…." The Italian was in a much similar position to that of the previous couple, a few meters away, on the receiving end of some quite intense sex.

Lucas felt a part of his brain die just then –were all the damn delegates gay in the end?

But the worst was not them.

No, the worst was the person sitting on an armchair in a corner of the room, camera in one hand and a pile of discarded phones on her lap, blood slowly trickling down her chin, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.

"Come on, you three! You've been pretty much equal since the start –let me see something good, or I'll have to ask Germany next time!"

"Shut up, woman!" the albino yelled, grunting in satisfaction when his thrusting caused the Austrian to moan loudly –much to his own chagrin. "As if the brother of the great me would allow you to film him!"

There was a strange glint in the woman's eyes as she turned towards him "y–you, be quiet! I'll have you know I allowed you to join in simply because I couldn't do all the work when I have to record your bet! Besides, Ludwig doesn't mind as long as I give him a copy…"

"Hah! Next time, I'll be pounding _you_ and him on the bed, just watch!" the albino laughed loudly, and the woman flushed, turning around.

Lucas' hand grasped the corner of the door, far too shocked and crestfallen.

That woman had been the Hungarian representative, the cute Miss Elizaveta, for whom he'd harboured quite a crush. Whenever he saw her nice, gentle face in the corridors, or spotted her in the room, his heart had started beating faster.

He'd admired her manners, her sweet tone, and the fact that she could attack if provoked, showing she had an attitude to be feared. She'd faced her own boss once, and in front of many other people, and she'd been so hot back then…

And now…

And now, not just his crush had been… well, crushed (pardon the pun, but his brain was less than receptive at the moment), since it looked like she was part of a threesome that left nothing much to imagination…

But she was also a pervert, as clearly demonstrated by the camera, the blood and the phones… and well, her own words.

They were all competing… _with __**sex**_?!

Head spinning, Lucas backed away from the room, shutting the door close with an inaudible click, and pressed both of his palms on his eyes.

This was just…

It was…

"Ahhhh! Fra–_aaah_…"

"Move your ass you two, France looks like he's going to win!"

Lucas ran away. Again.

…………………………

The whole 'everybody is gay' situation, after damaging Lucas' mind enough to make him wonder whether it was ok to be hetero in there, was also the reason why he was searching for a closet.

Not to make a stupid saying come true, of course, but just because he felt attacked from every side. He needed a safe spot to stop and think for a bit, calm down, and plan his future therapy sessions.

He knew he was not in denial when he thought he'd _not_ been aroused by the sight of the three couples separately going at it for the pleasure of one young woman.

Not at all.

To be fair, he had to deny any suggestion he might have gotten by that woman in regards of that cute couple from the kitchen, either.

Not to mention he was wondering if that Korean guy had indeed landed property on Mr. Yao…

"Let me offer you a vodka, _Товарищ_".

A familiar voice caught in Lucas' fuzzy mind and he looked up, peering from behind the corner. He really didn't want to happen anywhere around any other diplomat that could possibly be…

"Ah! Mr. Alfred!" Lucas felt his heart relax and he breathed out in relief.

If there was someone whom he could be assured of, that was Alfred, their own representative! Yes, he was crazy and ate burgers and used the walls as his drawing boards, and yelled around how much of a hero he was, but… really, Lucas couldn't but feel rather fond of him, despite everything.

The person together with Mr. Alfred was… Lucas paled. That was the feared Russian diplomat, Ivan Braginski!

Alfred mumbled something, pushing a bit on the other's chest for him to move, then walked numbly towards the coffee dispenser.

Lucas had to remember that unless he drank down at least a couple of coffees, their representative would be unable to talk during most days, as he had heard he used to party a lot at night. Which should have been reproachable, but really, this was Alfred. Lucas and most Americans working for the UN, not to mention the higher ups, clearly had a predilection for him. "Hnnnn no" he grumbled. "Coffee".

The Russian chuckled, and the sound sent a shiver of fear down Lucas' back.

He didn't really know why, but that guy reminded him of that woman, the one with the knife… he was scary, definitely…

And there it was again; the Russian leaned forwards, wide arms wrapping around the American, who was blearily waiting for his first coffee, and nuzzled at his neck –_nuzzled_!– still smiling creepily.

"Then wouldn't you want to be one with me, hmm?"

Alfred pushed him away easily, despite being sleepy, much to Lucas' happiness, and then grunted in his direction, bringing the freshly made coffee to his lips. "T'ld you nev'r ta ask me in the m'rnings…"

Under Lucas' unwilling stare (because this was his own representative, damn it!), Alfred didn't push away the Russian, and instead leaned back into him, sipping at the coffee. It took less than a few seconds for the caffeine to kick in, and by then, he bounced upright, smiling.

"Nothing beats a good coffee, hahaa! The hero is back working at full potential!"

Mr. Ivan didn't seem much displeased, in fact, and simply grabbed him roughly by the arm, so that he would return to his embrace.

"It's not fair of you to ask me when I'm not at my best!" Alfred chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't' want to become one with you, and you should stop asking".

"I could have you become one with me like last night, _da_?" that grin was still there, and the more he spoke, the more Lucas felt there was something missing…

Alfred's eyes widened, and his cheeks turned red. "That's another thing entirely –just watch, Ivan! I'll be the one leading next time!" he pointed at himself with a thumb, smirking in determination.

If possible, Lucas had the definite impression that the Russian's face had turned darker, almost menacing. "You can always try, but in the end, I will be _on top_…" his smirk widened, so much it looked like it would split his face in half, and he started uttering "_Kolkolkolkolkol_" whilst towering on the American, who was apparently blind to the strange, threatening attitude of the Russian and instead just patted him on the chest.

"We could definitely try now" he suggested, perking up.

"There!" blissfully lost in thought, and only vaguely aware that the Russian and the American were actually talking about having gay sex, too (probably his brain had been numbed enough not to be shocked anymore), Lucas slapped his fist in his other hand, brightening up. "The young woman with a knife! Miss Natalia!"

What he'd wanted to say was that he'd recognised the voice on the other end of the door that the crazy woman had tried to slam down –and it was, astonishingly, the Russian diplomat who had been scared by her… and that brought the notion that he'd heard stories about a fanatical sister of Mr. Braginski, and everything clicked together.

Of course, he didn't say all of this loudly, but realising this still surprised him quite a lot –the man looked unable to feel real fear, and yet there he'd been…

There again, the woman _had_ looked far too scary.

"_сестра?!_" Mr. Ivan blanched –and he was already quite pale on his own, at that. "W–where!"

Alfred looked around, only seeing Lucas standing there, and grabbed at Ivan's wrist, trying to calm him down…

Only that Ivan backed away from him, quickly making his way down the corridor, as if chased by a devil. "I'll see you later, Alfred, _da_?"

Left standing in the middle of the hall with a half–finished second cup of coffee in his hands, the American delegate looked quite lost and disappointed, and suddenly Lucas also felt bad, despite trying to think the opposite (he didn't really want to see more gay sex… no more…)

Hurrying down the wall, he was stumped. There was still no Tino V… whatever around, and he really didn't trust himself to go search for him around anymore…

He gave up.

To hell with the promotion and the raise, he really feared turning every single corner, let alone seek someone he couldn't find!

Dejectedly, Lucas turned around the corner, determined in returning to his office, in the other building, and tell his boss that he wanted –demanded– therapy, and…

He bumped into someone.

"Ah?" a young, cute face peered up at him, and Lucas stumbled backwards, muttering half–hearted excuses.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going… I think I need a mirror for the corners now…"

The other chuckled, nodding "I know… I just happened on… well, I just happened to see something I would have rather have done without, myself" he shrugged, clearly used to it anyway.

Lucas grimaced.

"What? The Italian and German diplomats going at it in the kitchen? The bet on whom completes a round of sex in front of Miss Elizaveta? Mr. Yao being molested by the Korean representative? Mr. Helge seeing things? Mr. Matthew's bear that _talks_?! The American diplomat almost having sex with Mr. Braginski?"

He slammed his head against the wall, overwhelmed.

The young man patted him on the back, sweatdropping. "Ah, yes… it takes a while to… get used to that… you must be rather new, hmm?"

Lucas let out a groan. Three months. He had yet to see anything, if that was just getting warmed up…

"Well, I'm a… representative myself, and I have yet to get used to some things my… colleagues do all day, and I'm here… I've been… well, it has been a while. So don't worry…" another gentle pat on his back. "Maybe you could just go to your office and rest…"

"I can't!" he whined, knowing he shouldn't be pouring his problems on this poor (and damn, so young!) lad, but… "I've been sent around to search for Mr. Tino V…. Va… V… I cannot even pronounce his name, damn it –and he's nowhere to be found, and he should have been signing documents in my boss' office for whatever thing he's needed for, and it's been hours I am walking everywhere, watching people have sex _and starting to find it arousing_, and yet he's still nowhere to be found! This is not how a proper diplomat should work! And here no one seems to be working seriously, either!"

"Ah…" cheeks turning crimson, the young man scratched the back of his head, chuckling weakly. "Er… I'm Tino Väinämöinen, if it's me you were searching for…" fidgeting, he looked to the side. "I'm sorry I missed my appointment, but Peter –you see, this kid I am acting as a parent for… used my documents as paper planes, and ran up and down the building with them, so I had to move around to retrieve them…"

Shuffling with the pile of documents he was holding, which were a bit ruined and wrinkled, Tino smiled brightly at Lucas.

"But I'm here, now! Let's go, ok?"

"…"

Lucas' shoulders sagged in both relief and shame for his uncouth yelling.

"My therapy won't be cheap…" he muttered, shaking his head.

"Did you just say something?"

"N–no. Mr. Tino, please, follow me…"

At least he was going to never leave his office ever again. He was sure of that.

Yet, he still wanted to know one last thing. "Say, why do you have a dog following you around?"

"Ah, that's my little dog! You could translate his name in FlowerEgg!"

"…" there again, it was better if he had not known.

**Omake**

"Well done, Lucas" his boss smiled at him, rubbing at his moustaches with a proud look. "You managed to find him in no time at all!"

"W–what? But I wasted four hours running around…" he sighed, looking to the side, where Mr. Tino was happily signing papers away. "On this account, I'd like to request a leave for ther–"

"Well, it's still a record here!" the man chuckled, interrupting him. "I can still remember that poor soul, Robert… his boss –I'm talking about the head of the Department for infrastructures– sent him to search for Mr. Vargas junior once… the poor lad, was never the same when he came back…"

Shaking his head sadly, his boss looked at him again, nodding in pride. "You've done fine, Lucas, I think it is time for the promotion you heard about –I know you didn't work here for long, but when it's someone as young as you, there's no reason not to let you progress further!"

Laughing, he extracted a few documents and scrolled over them, nodding to himself under the utterly flabbergasted expression of the poor secretary.

"I guess you could move to the direction under Mr. Alfred's direct control… you look like you've survived well during your trip, so aren't you happy? You'll be able to interact with many foreign diplomats!"

Lucas' head slammed down on thie table.

"Therapy…"

"Did you say something?"

He looked up, saw his boss' expression, and slammed his head down again. "No… nothing…"

Well, at least he could stalk the cute German–Italian couple now.

And lastly _'I wonder who won that bet?'_

A moment in which his brain restarted itself.

'_Oh, damn it!'_

–––

**END**

–––

**SOY:** I hope it was somewhat entertaining anyway…

_Mathias:_ fanon name for Denmark

_Helge:_ my name for Norway. Helge is actually a famous drummer from Norway that appears to be very famous around the world (and that I've also met twice), thus why I chose this name.

A bit of dictionary for you~

**_брат_** (Russian– brat) – brother

_Давай поженимся_ (Russian – Da-vAy pa-zshE-nim-sya) Let's get married

_сестра_ (Russian - sestra) – Sister

_Ti amo tanto_ (Italian) – I love you a lot

_Ich liebe dich_ (German) I love you

_Hyung_ (Korean) – Brother (older)

_mon ami_ (French) – my friend

_Angleterre _(French) – England

_Товарищ_ (Russian – Tovarish) comrade


End file.
